


An unsung meoldy that's mine for the keeping

by lapoesieestdanslarue



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: M/M, This is literally just because I wanted baby fluff, and exr as parents, because why not?, feat. cute babies and enj's terrible attempt at singing
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-20
Updated: 2017-04-20
Packaged: 2018-10-21 07:42:34
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,291
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10680798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lapoesieestdanslarue/pseuds/lapoesieestdanslarue
Summary: “I’m sorry I doubted you.”Enjolras huffs. Grantaire nudges the underside of his jaw, peppering kisses until he makes his way to the corner of his mouth. “I bet you’re the best baby-person ever. I’m sure the minute you so much as step in the room, babies everywhere stop crying. Maybe it’s your similar intellect levels-”This time when Grantaire tries to kiss him, he leans into it, laughing.





	An unsung meoldy that's mine for the keeping

**Author's Note:**

> This entire thing was born of 1) me wanting pure e/R fluff plus babies and 2) because [Emily](http://barricade-blondes.tumblr.com/) told me they didn't think I could write anything purely fluff-based ("I'll believe it when I see it.") so here we are!

Babies had never been a priority for Enjolras. Sure, he liked them, was actually quite good with them, but he just assumed it was a luxury he couldn’t have in place of political movement. But then Grantaire came into his life. And when they fell in love, he knew that he was allowed to have things to himself. 

( _“Saving the world does not fill up your happiness quote, Enj,”_ Grantaire had said one night. _“You’re allowed to have things just for you.”_ )

Then babies kept popping up all over the damn place, and that’s when it all went to shit.

As per the usual in Enjolras’s life, it starts with Marius Pontmercy. 

//

“We have to see the baby, Enjolras,” Grantaire sighs.

“I’m not saying we _don’t_ ,” He argues around his cereal. “I want to see the baby. Don’t give me that look- I _do._ I’m just saying, I think Marius and Cosette are a little bit mad to be throwing a party this early. I mean, all the child’s going to do is sleep, most likely, and we’ll all end up tiptoeing around the place so we don’t wake her up.”

Grantaire flips his pancake. Because he can just do stuff like that. “It’s not me you have to worry about.”

“I know.”

“It’s Cosette.”

“I _know._ ” 

He sighs, and shoves a pancake towards Enjolras. “I know this isn’t what you’d do, but it’s what Cosette and Marius want to do and the least you can do, as not only that baby’s uncle but her godfather is go.”

Enjolras runs a hand through his hair. “Look, I love that kid. But there’s no way she’s got Cosette’s looks _and_ her personality. I mean, there has to be a bit of Marius in there. The poor child is going to be overwhelmed!”

Grantaire snorts. “Marius took to us just fine. So will his daughter.” His hand stills on the pan, and he turns to fix Enjolras with a narrow look. “Are you nervous?”

“What? No!”

“It’s okay if you are, mon ange. Not everyone is a natural with babies, Cosette will-”

“I get on perfectly well with children,” He retorts, trying not to feel too hurt that Grantaire would assume that he’s just as robot as the rest of the Amis tease him to be. 

Grantaire turns down the heat on the hob and turns to walk over to him. “I’m sure you are, love,” He says, down on his hunkers and playing with the hair at Enjolras’s neck. “I’m sorry I doubted you.” 

Enjolras huffs. Grantaire nudges the underside of his jaw, peppering kisses until he makes his way to the corner of his mouth. “I bet you’re the best baby-person ever. I’m sure the minute you so much as step in the room, babies everywhere stop crying. Maybe it’s your similar intellect levels-”

This time when Grantaire tries to kiss him, he leans into it, laughing.

//

“You came!” Cosette exclaims, beaming. Marius comes up behind her, one-month old baby daughter cradled in the nook of his neck. “Mélodie look, it’s your favourite uncle,” She coos. 

“I hope that’s me you’re talking about,” Grantaire says, stepping inside and beaming down at the infant, proffering the stuffed lamb he and Enjolras had picked out in an entirely overpriced children’s store. 

“It’s definitely Mélodie, then?” Enjolras asks, shutting the front door behind him and following the rest of them into the sitting room with the rest of the Amis. 

“Definitely Mélodie,” Marius confirms.

“Not Anna or Emily or Hannah-”

Eponine rolls her eyes. “Shut up. It’s not like picking a colour for your curtains, Enjolras. It’s the name the child is probably going to have for the rest of her life.”

“Just because you got stuck with a god-awful mouthful doesn’t mean your niece has to be condemned to the same fate,” Courfeyrac says sympathetically, reaching over to pat his knee.

“I know we took a slight bit longer than most parents to decide on a name, but we wanted to make sure we got it absolutely right.”

“And we did,” Marius beams. “This is Mélodie Fantine Pontmercy.”

Everyone aww’s at that, and even Enjolras can’t help but smile. Mélodie is something else, because everyone seems to melt around her, himself included. Five seconds into holding her, and she’s already got him wrapped him around her little finger.

She stares up at him, eyes wide and unfocused, and the smile he radiates back her is all love and warmth- No sharp edges like he sees everyday at work, or on tv. It’s one reserved for only a few, his mother, the Amis, Grantaire. And now little Mélodie. It’s love, it’s adoration.

“I’m your uncle,” He explains to her quietly over the din of the other conversations taking place. “And I’m going to do everything I can to be the best uncle I can be to you. But you’re already so lucky, Mélodie, because you’ve been born into the biggest, warmest family there is. You have the best mama and papa, and you have ten other uncles and aunts who’ll love and take care of you no matter what. We’re going to fight everyday for a better world for you, I promise.”

It’s only when Cosette clears her throat does he look up, and dutifully hand Mélodie back for her bottle. She’s giving him a strange look- tender and soft but assessing at the same time.

When he asks her what it is, she just shakes her head and says nothing, but there’s something in the secretive smile she shares with Mélodie that makes Enjolras frown.

//

That night Enjolras has his phone cradled against his ear, talking to Cosette as he finishes checking his emails. 

“You’d be a good father,” She says out of the blue, and it’s such a shock that he nearly drops his phone. When Grantaire twists around from the couch to see what’s going on, he shakes his head and moves into the kitchen.

“What makes you say that?” He asks, trying to maintain a calm to his voice.

“I saw you with Mélodie today. Courf will have a conniption, you know, when she’s older and you’ll be the favourite.”

“I’m not- I didn’t even-”

“Enjolras, calm down. It was just a passing comment, I’m not saying you have to go out and adopt right now. You’re good with children is all.”

“Everyone seems to think I’m not,” He says immediately, thinking back to what Grantaire had said that morning. 

On the other end of the phone, his sister lets out a musical laugh. “Can you blame them? You’ve never exactly been a beacon of warmth and softness.”

“I care about my friends.” He picks at a loose thread at the hem of his t-shirt. “I care about children. About _Mélodie._ ”

“I know,” She says gently. “But the way you approach caring for your friends is similar to how you approach the cause, all passion and burning. It’s lovely, but it’s like an extreme form of nurturing, which usually isn’t associated with infants. With Mélodie, that burning passion… Melts, or something. You know what I’m saying. Most of them just hadn’t seen that side of you until today. R included.”

“And you have?”

Cosette snorts. “I was content to play war as a child, remember? You were the one that always brought in the dolls as children we had to rescue and would raise to fight back against whatever oppressive system you came up with.” He smiles fondly at the memory. 

“Anyways,” Cosette continues. “I’m just saying, you shouldn’t rule yourself out for parenthood just yet. It might suit you, is all.”

Enjolras gazes at the mess of Grantaire’s black curls, the other man lost in whatever tv programme is on.

“Yeah,” He says eventually. “I’ll- I’ll keep it in mind.”

//

“Are you positive everything’s okay?” Cosette asks for the fifth time.

“’Sette,” Enjolras sighs. “For the last time everything is fine.” He glances over to the sitting room floor, where R and Mélodie are engaged in a riveting game of peek-a-boo. He smiles as the little girl lets out a shriek of laughter, bright and clear, when Grantaire’s re-emerges from behind his hands. “Honestly. She’s got a clean nappy on, she’s eaten her dinner and we’re still in her good graces. We’ll send her to bed in ten minutes, like you said, and it’ll be fine.” 

Cosette lets out a frayed sigh. “Okay,” She concedes. “If you’re sure.” 

“Of course I’m sure,” He answers. “I was sure when you asked, I was sure when you dropped her off, and I’m still sure five times after you asked me. Now please, for the sake of both our sanities, would you stop hiding in the bathrooms and go back out to your husband in whatever ridiculously decadent restaurant you’re in?” 

“It’s the Chevalier, you should take Grantaire sometime.” 

“ _Cosette_.” 

“Okay, okay. Fine. Bye. Tell Mélodie I love her.” 

“I will. We’ll see you tomorrow. Bye.” With a breath he puts down his phone, and turns to look back at the two seated comfortably on the carpet, still engaged in their game. 

“…. Peek-a-boo!” 

A peal of giggles escapes from Mélodie’s lips, as she claps her delicate hands at the spectacle. Grantaire smiles at her, gentle and impossibly tender as he reaches forward to stop her from falling backwards. Enjolras observes them, watches as Grantaire interacts with his niece with some kind of natural instinct. He looks on while Grantaire blows a raspberry on her stomach, and holds her, steadfast and sure, while her body wriggles in hysterics. 

Enjolras is struck, suddenly, by something that leaves him breathless. It’s not just the usual love that swells when Grantaire is near, it’s something bigger, something more. He looks at this man, and thinks of the happiness he brings to everyone that knows him. He remembers how easily Grantaire coaxes all of the goodness, all of the human out of Enjolras. Grantaire melts his marble with a mere sweep of his eyes, leaving him open and vulnerable and entirely in love and Enjolras can’t even bring himself to care. He’s reminded of the countless time Mélodie has sat in his lap during meetings, content to draw her whatever she desires. He’s illustrated entire stories for her. He’s so kind and so good- Too good for Enjolras, that’s for sure. 

And yet. Despite that, despite knowing that this world doesn’t deserve Grantaire, that he doesn’t deserve Grantaire, he wants him in this moment with such ferocity it takes him by surprise. But he doesn’t want his body, this isn’t just lust, he wants- 

He wants a life. Here, with Grantaire. He wants happiness to exude from him like it does now, with Mélodie against his chest. They’ve never talked about it, having children. Considering their bodies inability to procreate, it wasn’t a conversation that had ever cropped up. Hell, they haven’t even talked about marriage. But this. 

Enjolras wants to give Grantaire this. He wants just wants Grantaire to be happy. And he thinks, it would make him happy too. 

He’s broken out of his reviver by Grantaire looking up at him. “Don’t just stand there, Ange, come join us.” At that, Mélodie coos in agreement. She stands up on Grantaire’s knees (with a fair deal of help from the man) and watches expectantly with her big, baby blue eyes as he pushes himself off the kitchen counter and goes to join them. 

He smiles as she holds her hands out, reaching for him. He takes her by the underarms, scooping her up and placing her in the cross of his legs when he sits down. 

“There you are, nounours,” Grantaire grins, bopping her nose. 

She twists her torso, looking up at Enjolras. 

“Hello, ma puce,” He says. 

Seemingly not enough proximity for Mélodie, she grabs a curl and pulls him downwards, until their nose to nose. 

“Is this better, ma petite?” He asks, before dropping a kiss on her cheek. She smiles at him, eyes bright, and he smiles back at her. They spend the next few minutes like that, him and Grantaire staring at the baby, babbling nonsense and she returns in kind, sometimes with an added tug of a t-shirt for extra emphasis. 

“Time for bed, little one,” Enjolras announces when it’s quarter past eight. “Come on.” 

To her credit, Mélodie is quite compliant about the whole thing, never once fussing when they change her into her bedtime onesie, or when they lay her in the cot. She just stares up at them, as if waiting for something. 

“What did Cosette say to do?” Grantaire says after ten minutes of an intense staring match. 

“There was something about a lullaby,” Enjolras answers, flinging the mobile above her head, which she looks at with amazement. He turns his head back to Grantaire, who’s giving him an expectant look. “What?” 

The other man rolls his eyes. “So sing to her.” 

“Oh. Right. Um.” He clears his throat. "Mary had a little lamb, little lamb. Mary had a little lamb who’s fur was white as snow. And everywhere that Mary went, Mary went, that lamb was sure to go. Then one day Mary went to work and- Mary lost her job?” He glares at R’s shaking shoulders beside him, head ducked into his arms. “Why are you laughing at me?” 

That only provokes him further, and soon enough Mélodie is giggling too. “R, seriously, help me.” 

“Oh, Apollo,” he wheezes, wiping a tear from his eyes. “You’re hopeless.” He bends down and picks Mélodie up, still smiling, as he cradles her against his chest. “Hopeless, isn’t that right?” He coos to the infant. She offers him her pacifier as an answer. 

_“Rest tired eyes a while, sweet is thy baby's smile, angels are guarding and they watch o'er thee_ ,” He croons, low and impossibly soft. Enjolras sucks in a breath, transfixed, and Mélodie is the same, gazing up at Grantaire with wide eyes. “ _Sleep, sleep, grá mo chroí, here on your mamma's knee, angels are guarding and they watch o'er thee. The birdeens sing a fluting song, they sing to thee the whole day long, wee fairies dance o'er hill and the dale for very love of thee.”_

Enjolras almost can’t believe it when Mélodie’s eyes begin to flutter shit, her breathing becoming evening out and becoming deep. Silently, Grantaire places her back in her cot. They hover over her a minute longer, making sure she’s well and truly asleep, before quietly tip-toeing back out of the room. 

“I’ve never heard that song before,” Enjolras says quietly into the darkness of the apartment as they pad into their bedroom. 

“My mother taught it to me. She sang it me and her mother sang it to her and her mother sang it to her…” He answers, checking to make sure the baby monitor is. When the green light flashes, he turns back to Enjolras. “Still has its uses, which she’ll be happy to hear.” 

Enjolras stares at him again, watching the man as he gets ready for bed. Grantaire peaks his head out the bathroom, toothbrush half in his mouth. “Are you sleeping standing up now?” 

He shakes his head, and follows him into the bathroom. “No, sorry. I was just… thinking.” 

“Julien Enjolras? Thinking before he talks?” Grantaire admonishes playfully. 

Enjolras hip-checks him. “Shut up. It’s been known to happen.” 

Grantaire laughs, quiet but full-bodied, and leans over to peck him on the corner of the mouth, all minty fresh. “Ah, I can’t say I don’t enjoy the sound of your lovely voice, regardless of whatever you’re spouting.” He leans against the sink, grinning at Enjolras as he waits for him to finish brushing his teeth. 

“To bed now. Come on. Don’t frown at me- We’re sleeping.” 

//

(That night, before he goes to bed, he takes another look at the golden ring he’s hidden away that would look so nice on Grantaire’s left hand.) 

//

The next morning they stroll down Rue St. Méry, Grantaire pushing Mélodie’s buggy and Enjolras carrying her bag. They find Cosette and Marius waiting outside a café, anxiously awaiting them. 

The smile that breaks out on both their faces when they see Enjolras and Grantaire with a happy and healthy Mélodie is heartwarming. 

“Salut, ma petit!” Cosette coos, immediately scooping her into her arms, peppering her little forehead with kisses. “Were you good for your uncles, ma puce?” 

“She was perfect,” Grantaire grins. 

“You didn’t have any trouble?” Marius enquires, taking the bag and pram from the two. 

“Not a bit,” Enjolras confirms, before his face dissolves into a helpless smile. “She was a treat.”

Marius turns back to his baby daughter, beaming. “Do you hear that, my love? You’re a treat.”

She babbles something, a gummy smile on her face, and Grantaire laughs. “She already knew that. Right, Mélodie?”

At that, she gives a high pitched, happy squeal, flailing her firsts towards R. Cosette ‘aw’s’, and bestows another kiss to her cheek. 

“We fed her breakfast but not lunch,” Grantaire explains. “She’s had her nappy changed, and when I checked before she left it was still clean.”

“Thank you both so much,” Cosette gushes, hoisting Mélodie further up her hip. “Seriously, you’re amazing.”

“We’ll repay the favour, anytime,” Marius says earnestly. 

“I think one niece is enough for now,” Grantaire answers, as Mélodie begins to chew on his fingers.

Enjolras tries to pay attention to the rest of the conversation, he really does. But he’s distracted by the way his heart feels like it’s in freefall in his chest. 

Why hadn’t he thought of this? Of course R might not want children, before Mélodie he’d never even mentioned the creatures. He looks at his niece, at R beaming down at her, and considers a life where she’s enough for them.

It’s enough, he reckons. And he’s have Grantaire, hopefully, so he’d be happy still. 

“...Jolras?”

He’s snapped out of his thoughts. “Sorry, what?”

Grantaire looks at him expectantly. “I said are you ready to go?” 

“Yes. Sorry, yes.” He drops a kiss to Mélodie’s forehead and another to Cosette’s cheek. “Thanks for letting us mind her.”

“Thanks for taking her,” Marius answers, shaking his hand. 

“It was our pleasure,” Grantaire says warmly, wrapping an arm around Enjolras’s waist. They leave with goodbyes and loose plans to see each other later on in the week at the Musain. 

For their part, Enjolras and Grantaire stroll through the city, taking their time to get back their apartment before deciding to get lunch. But Enjolras’s mind is elsewhere, chewing on his lip as he considers what Grantaire just said before stopping. 

He has to take action, he decides. 

He drops his croque monsieur to his plate, and Grantaire looks up, startled. Noticing the determined look on Enjolras’s face, he raises an eyebrow.

“Are you going to tell me what you’ve been chewing on since we dropped of Mélodie?”

“You don’t want kids.”

This time it’s Grantaire’s sandwich that’s abandoned to his plate. “I- What? I don’t- _What?”_

“It’s fine, I mean,” He rushes to say. “It’s just- After what you said about Mélodie being enough. That’s fine, really. That is _fine._ But we’ve been together three years now and I don’t know about you but I for one certainly see myself with you till death do us part and I just think we should clear the air now about whether or not kids come into the mix. And they obviously don’t for you and that’s fine.”

Grantaire stares blankly ahead at him. “I- Enjolras, I don’t know where you got that impression, but I just. Okay you need to backtrack here because I’m seriously lost right now.”

“When Marius said he’d repay the favour. You said one niece was enough.”

Grantaire gapes at him. “Yeah, _for now._ Christ, Enjolras- You know if we said ‘yeah, sure’ or even ‘thanks’ we’d be hounded from here till the grave about when we were going to have our own family, right? I didn’t -There wasn’t any weight to that, I just want people off our backs. I mean god, we haven’t even talked about getting married.”

“Would you want to get married? To me, preferably.”

The man opposite him snorts. “Where the hell have you been the past three years? Of course I want to marry you.”

Enjolras nods, once. “Noted.”

Opening his mouth to say something, Grantaire is cut off by his phone ringing. “Shit. I have to go, it’s the gallery.” He shoves on his jacket and goes to offer Enjolras some bills to pay for the food, but he waves him off. 

“I’ll get it this time,” He tells him.

“You sure?” When Enjolras nods, he bends down to press a kiss to his cheek. “You’re the best. Even though you can be stupid about things like assuming I don’t want to marry you. But I’ll forgive you when we talk about it later. And um, about that other thing? Maybe we can talk about that later, too?”

“Yeah, sure. I’ll see you then.” He smiles up at Grantaire, absently skimming his fingers across the other man’s knuckles. 

“See you then, Ange.”

//

For all their sins, they don’t actually get to talk about ‘it’ until much later that night, when they’re lying in bed, naked and wrapped up in one another.

“Of course I want kids,” Grantaire says eventually. “Of course I want kids with _you._ I just wasn’t sure that you did, I didn’t want to jump to conclusions.” He leans down, lips brushing the top of Enjolras’s ear. “I don’t want you to feel forced into this, Enj. I understand not wanting children, I really do. I’d rather have a happy relationship with you than an unhappy one with a poor child brought into the mix. I’m not going to put a child through that. So don’t say that you want kids too just because you want to please me. I’m so happy with you, Enjolras. Ecstatic, even. A child would just be a bonus.”

Enjolras presses his face against Grantaire’s chest, taking a steadying breath. He’s so filled with love for this man, it threatens to knock him apart. “I love you so much,” He mumbles against the salt-sweet skin. “If I’m honest, I hadn’t thought about having children until recently. But R, seeing you, with Mélodie it made me…” He grapples for the words, his frayed nerves settle by Grantaire’s calming touch running through his scalp as he combs his talented fingers through blonde curls. “It made me _want_ that. With you. I want to get married to you and wear a ring and have you in every sense of the word and have a child that we get to raise together. I want that, R. A family, with you.”

He’s wrapped into Grantaire’s muscular arms, enclosing him in a cocoon of Grantaire, it nearly intoxicates him. A quiet few minutes follows, then. Intimate and tender, whispered ‘I love you’s’ are exchanged, followed by kisses.

“I was adopted,” Grantaire says eventually into the dark, fingers still in Enjolras’s hair.

Enjolras freezes. “You never-”

“I know.” He pulls back to look at Enjolras, moving his spare hand up to cup Enjolras’s cheek, his thumb running absent patterns into his cheekbone. “I know. I didn’t think I had to- I don’t think I _should-_ because my parents have been so good to me. My birth parent’s weren’t. So if we were to have kids, that would be my only condition.” His eyes soften, almost pleading. “There are enough children in the world as is, Enj. We don’t need to add to that. But if we could take a child that was suffering… That would make a difference. That I believe in.”

“Okay.” He murmurs, turning to press a kiss into Grantaire’s palm. “Okay.”

Another silence descends upon them, falling gently on top of them like the fall of night. 

Until Grantaire opens his mouth. “So about what you said about wanting to marry me…”

//

Their wedding had been a small, intimate affair, overflowing with love and joy. Enjolras hadn’t known the breathlessness that came with seeing Grantaire in his tuxedo, waiting anxiously at the top of the aisle. 

He hadn’t realised the utter euphoria that came with sliding a ring onto Grantaire’s finger, or the electric shocks that accompanied Grantaire doing the same to him. And kissing had never felt as amazing as it did when they were pronounced husbands.

The honeymoon period had been great. Lots of sex, which was always a plus, and a trip to Brazil.

It wasn’t until they had been home for a few months, well eased into married life that Enjolras started to get restless.

“Broody,” Grantaire claimed one morning, scrambling eggs. “You’re broody, Enjolras.”

“I’m not _broody_ ,” He snaps. “Are you telling me the house doesn’t feel too big to you?”

At that Grantaire has the audacity to throw his head back and laugh, the bastard. “It’s spacious. That’s what the landlord said when we bought it, didn’t he?”

“I’m just saying that we bought this house when we got engaged with the idea of having a child,” He argued. “And we’re married now, for nearly six months, and.” He cuts the sentence off with an angry sigh.

Grantaire stares at him thoughtfully. “This baby thing is really on your mind, isn’t it?”

His face heats up. “I just don’t see the point in waiting any longer. If you’re ready, I’m ready.”

Their eyes lock, assessing each other. Whatever it is Grantaire sees in him, he must be happy with it, because a small smile takes it’s place on his face. “Okay then. I’ll ring up the local adoption agency and we’ll start from there.”

**Author's Note:**

> [Come talk to me on tumblr](http://starshideyour-fire.tumblr.com/)
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> Comments are greatly appreciated!!
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> Xx


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